


Each Our Own Devil

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Awkward Conversations, Community: hc_bingo, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mind Control, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 22:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8226656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Apocalypse has won. The world is populated by his slaves and his horsemen. Then suddenly, Kurt is free - but why? What does Angel want with him?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt "lost childhood."

When the God-King called in his mind, Kurt heard it.

He moved instantly, transporting himself from his cell to the great throne room. The God-King sat on his throne, tall and beautiful and surprisingly alone apart from his loyal Angel.

“Little one,” the God-King said, voice glorious as ever. Kurt bowed deeply.

“You summoned me, Master?”

“I did,” the God-King said and then – 

His mind was back. His mind was his own and he could think again and he knew where he was and what he was doing and oh no. Oh no, no, no, it was all real, awful and oh ...

“Enough,” Apocalypse said, not angry, just cold and dead and how could Kurt have ever thought that the voice was glorious? He shrank back, trying to crawl into himself, wanting to run, to escape – 

“Nightcrawler,” Apocalypse said “My Angel is lonely. You are to keep him company.”

“I ... what?”

Apocalypse did not repeat his statement. He brushed a hand over Angel’s cheek and Angel flew down to where Kurt was huddling, landing gracefully in front of him.

“C’mon.”

Kurt thought about resisting. Thought about telling Angel to get lost, to drop dead, thought about trying to get away ...

But Apocalypse was close and the reach of his mind was ... unknown. And at least right now, Kurt was _himself_ , he was real and he didn’t know when he’d last been real, he couldn’t remember ...

He walked with Angel, trying not to shake. Angel wasn’t looking at him. His face was oddly set, He half-pulled Kurt down the corridors of the pyramid and into a small room that was stocked with an oddment of supplies.

“Beer?”

“I ... w-what?”

“D’you want a beer?” Angel asked. He took a bottle and flicked the top off with the tip of one of his metal feathers, then held it out. After a moment, Kurt took it. He wasn’t sure that he actually wanted it but he didn’t want to annoy Angel either. Not now, not when he had his mind, his soul ...

Angel had grabbed himself a bottle and was swigging from it. He pulled a face.

“Shit stuff.”

Kurt sipped his own. When had he last eaten? He was hungry but he knew about hunger. This was just the niggling hunger, the type that said your body wanted more but expected nothing.

“Why don’t I remember things?”

“It happens like that when he lets your minds go,” Angel said, still not looking at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t _worry_ about it? My mind, my world has been stolen from me and you tell me not to worry about it?!”

“All right, all right, don’t throw a fucking fit! I just meant ... look just ... just drink up, okay? Do you want something to eat? We might have something around here, something better than what you usually get ... ”

Kurt was about to refuse but the lessons of his childhood stilled his tongue. Never refuse food. You did not know when it would be offered again.

“Okay,” he said and Angel smiled, a rueful sort of smile. He began to rummage through the boxes. Kurt swallowed some more of the beer. It didn’t taste that bad, not really. He had a feeling he’d drunk something like it recently and he hadn’t minded that. But what had he drunk? When had he drunk it? Why couldn’t he remember anything?

“It comes back quicker if you don’t push it,” Angel said. He was holding out a packet of chips and after a moment, Kurt took them. He’d only had chips once, when they had gone to the mall. He remembered enjoying them. They had been good.

That was something he remembered! The mall! His friends, Scot and Jean and Jubilee!

“Where are the others?”

“The others?” Angel said blankly. “They’ll all be in the cells, won’t they?”

Kurt shuddered. Cells. A fitting name for the homes of the prisoners that they were. Oh, he was sure Apocalypse thought it was actually for the rooms that monks had used to live in but no. They were enslaved.

“I want to see them.”

“What’s the point?” Angel asked. “They won’t talk to you.”

Kurt cringed, his tail twitching. 

“They ... they might ... ”

“Only if En Sabah Nur allows it. And why would he? You’re supposed to be talking to me, not them.”

“Why do you want me to talk you? Why doesn’t he just make me?”

“It’s ...it’s not ... ”

Angel trailed off. His wings clicked together as he shifted position, looking away. Kurt couldn’t help bearing his teeth.

“Not the same? Do you bore of puppets, _Angel?_ Do you bore of the slaves that your _master_ creates for you?!”

“Stop it,” Angel muttered. “Just ... I don’t ... I just wanna talk, okay?”

“Why should I talk to you? Why should I give you anything?!”

Angel moved away from him, wings clicking again. Kurt stared at them, trying not to think about the things they could do. Somewhere in his hazy mind, he knew that he had seen Angel kill with those wings. 

He opened the chips and began to eat them. They were a little stale but they still tasted good. Kurt wondered how long it had been since the world had been right. A long time. A very long time.

“Please,” Angel said quietly. “Just ... you want to get your mind back in order, right? Just talk to me a bit. Talk about your childhood.”

“My childhood?”

“Yeah. It helps, focusing on something ... something before. You came from the circus, right?”

“I ... yes,” Kurt said slowly. “How did you know that?”

“They mentioned it when ... when we first fought, in the cages. The Munich Circus, right?”

“Yes. I grew up there. They told me that I was left there by my mother, that she was sorry to give me up but that she had no choice. I suppose it was true, I ... I do not know. The circus was my family.”

Angel was right, it was easier to focus on this than it was on recent events. Thinking about it was making everything at least a little clearer. He closed his eyes for a moment, reliving the old days, the caravans, the tents, the people. It had been a hard life but it had been his. It was good to remember.

“Was it ... did they love you?”

Angel sounded uncertain. Kurt opened his eyes and looked at him. Angel’s question was strange to him.

“I suppose so, some of them, in their ways” he said with a small shrug. “We did not speak of it very much. We worked together, that was how it was. You have to be able to understand each other, to know each other well to make a good performance.”

“Yeah,” Angel said. “I get that. I mean, I ... not quite the same but when you fight with someone on your side, you have to know how they’ll react to stuff, what they need. Then you can work with them properly.”

Kurt frowned. He didn’t think he liked having his performances in the circus compared to Angel battling with people, although he could see where Angel was coming from. They hadn’t been fighting a war, they had been trying to make people happy. It wasn’t the same thing.

“But you were happy, right?” Angel asked.

There was something odd about the way Angel was asking questions. It was almost as though Angel was expecting a certain answer and waiting for it, as though there was a script that Kurt didn’t know about and didn’t understand. He really didn’t need anything else to make this experience more uncomfortable.

“I suppose so. I did not think about that very much. Happiness was ... I was glad when I did things right, when I was useful. That was what mattered.”

Angel nodded his head, like he got it. Maybe he did. Kurt wasn’t sure. This was just so strange.

“It doesn’t sound like it was much of a childhood,” Angel said.

“Why do you care about that? Are any of the children born in this hell getting anything like a real childhood? Are they _happy?_ ”

Angel cringed away from him, staring down at the ground. Somehow, that made Kurt more angry. He whipped his tail out, using the end of it to shove Angel’s chin up so they were looking at each other.

“Well?! What are the children like here? Are there any?!”

“Of course there are! Of course there ... En Sabah Nur _values_ the children, he wants to keep them safe, he ... you don’t understand!”

Kurt snorted and pulled his tail back. Angel was still staring at him though and his expression was ... miserable. He was squeezing his fingers together and had pulled his wings in tight in a way that suggested that he wanted to be smaller. Kurt suddenly felt sorry for him. He moved over and sat down next to Angel and touched his knee with his tail.

“Why did you want to talk to me, Angel?”

“I ... I dunno. You just ... you ... I just remember when we met in the cages and you ... you were tough, in your weird kind of way. I just wanted to talk to someone. Didn’t know who else to pick.”

“What about your other horsemen?” 

Angel snorted.

“Magneto doesn’t talk to anyone any more, except maybe En Sabah Nur. Psylocke doesn’t get lonely, you can’t talk to her about that stuff and Storm and I just don’t ... I dunno. We just can’t talk that way. I needed to talk to someone not involved, someone ... ”

“But we’re all involved,” Kurt said. “We’re all _his_ slaves now. Nobody in this world is not involved with what he created!”

“No, I know, I ... I don’t know.” Angel’s voice wobbled. “Kurt ... ”

“You don’t get to say my name like that! We are not friends! You won’t let me see my friends, you say they can’t talk to me any more and you behave as though we are friends?!”

Angel was cringing. He had lifted his wings up now, pulled them close to his ears. Kurt could see that he was afraid, distressed by Kurt’s words. Good. He deserved to be upset. He deserved to be broken after what he’d done. He _deserved_ this.

But it was hard to sustain that anger as he looked down at Angel, at the clear misery that warped his entire frame.

“I’m sorry,” Angel whispered. “I’m really sorry. I just wanted to talk, I just wanted ... I’m not ... you wanna see them? You can come and see them, they just ... ”

He got to his feet and opened the door. Kurt followed uncertainly. Angel moved in a stumble, as though it was hard to balance. He seemed so ... uncontrolled, so _afraid_. 

He found that he remembered his way around the pyramid, at least a little. The paths were not entirely unfamiliar, although he couldn’t have told anybody where he was actually going. They were suddenly walking through corridors with doors in and Kurt knew that he’d been in before. The cells.

Angel didn’t bother to knock on the door. He just opened it and Kurt saw Scott sitting there, staring at nothing. He didn’t react to the door being opened or to seeing Kurt and Angel there. He just sat there blankly, as though he was dead.

“Oh Scott,” Kurt whispered. It hurt to see him like this. He’d seen Scott so brave, so fiery. So sad about his brother, grieving, wanting to avenge him. Now he was just a shell with no desires but those he was given by Apocalypse. With no thoughts, no will, no meaning.

He stepped back and closed the door, knowing it was pointless. The only real people here were himself and Angel.

“You wanna see any of the others?” Angel asked. He sounded dull and Kurt couldn’t even make himself be angry any more. He turned around and looked at him and saw the look on Angel’s face. The hopelessness.

“You’re scared too,” he said.

“I ... I don’t get scared,” Angel said, trying to put some bravado in his tone. “I _don’t_ , just ... sometimes it’s too quiet. It’s so quiet all the time, it’s ... why is it always so quiet?!”

He was shaking and Kurt felt a great swell of pity. He stepped forward and put a hand on Angel’s arm, petting a little. Angel stared at him and then swallowed and looked away.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry you can’t talk to your friend. I’m sorry you can’t ... I’m sorry!”

“It’s not your fault,” Kurt said, still petting. “It’s not. I ... I understand.”

Angel looked at him for a moment, obviously uncertain. Kurt pattered his shoulder again and tried not to think of Scott in the room behind him, not thinking about anything at all..

“Why don’t you ... you tell me something about yourself?” he said because if Angel didn’t want silence, there shouldn’t be silence. “What was your childhood like?”

Angel blinked, looking almost non-plussed, as though Kurt had gone off-script in some strange way. He shrugged his shoulders a little.

“I ...it was okay, I guess? My Dad was really busy a lot, he worked hard but I never needed anything cause of that. We were really rich back then, richer than pretty much anyone, it was good. I went to boarding school and I could buy anything I wanted, so that was good.”

“But were you happy?” Kurt asked. Angel’s story sounded fine but there seemed to be something missing.

“I dunno. I guess. Happy enough. Then these grew.”

Angel flapped his wings once, sending a breeze down the corridor. He gave a low sigh.

“Had to leave my boarding school then. Dad kept me at home, wouldn’t let me go out alone. He thought I was a freak, a disgusting monster, wanted to _fix_ me. So I ran away. Only they caught me and put me in the cages and ... well.”

Angel sounded as though he was trying to speak without emotion but Kurt could hear the sadness there. He still had his hand on Angel’s shoulder and so he squeezed delicately. Angel blinked at him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said and then, louder. “It _doesn’t_. I don’t care, I don’t ... I don’t give a shit, it’s all over now and fuck them. Fuck them all, they’re dead and I’m alive and I’m, I’m a fucking child of a _God_ so what does it matter?”

“He is not God! He is _not!_ You know nothing of God if you can believe that, if you can think it!”

Kurt’s voice was shaking. He didn’t care that Apocalypse could read his mind, he didn’t care that probably that _thing_ was angry right now because he could hear him decrying him. He believed in One God, a God that merciful and forgiving and loving and that was _not_ the creature that ruled this world with an iron fist. And while his mind was his own, he would say it and let everybody know it, no matter what the punishment.

But nothing came into his mind to punish him and Angel just stood there, staring at him miserably, as though he knew that what Kurt was saying was the truth and couldn’t fight it. His wings were drooping again and he looked dejected, despairing.

“What else can I do?” he whispered. “What else can I do, Kurt?”

Kurt didn’t have an answer. He wished that he did. Angel was just as controllable as the rest of them and just because Apocalypse let him run free now did not mean that he would forever. If Angel ran, Apocalypse would bring him back, perhaps kill him for his betrayal.

Angel had sold himself and there was nothing that anybody could do to save him.

There was nothing anybody could do to save anybody.

They were all lost.

He felt his own shoulders slump in despair, his tail droop to the ground.

“Don’t,” Angel whispered. “Don’t, don’t, don’t ... ”

He moved suddenly, stepping close to Kurt and wrapping his arms around him. Kurt froze but before he could say anything, before he could do anything, Angel was kissing him desperately, mouth hot and wild on Kurt’s, hands gripping Kurt’s back so tightly that his nails were digging in.

Kurt kissed him back. It was stupid, it was ridiculous and yet he understood it. The world was horrifying and empty and Angel needed something to hold onto and yes, Kurt needed something too. He had never been kissed before, he had not been the kind of creature that people considered kissing and what Angel was doing felt ... good.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, kissing each other. Angel seemed to know just how to kiss him to make it feel good, just how to trail his fingers down Kurt’s neck to make him shiver. His armour was too cold to press against comfortably but his arms were still pleasant and his hair felt good under Kurt’s fingers. Kurt thought he could have happily kissed Angel forever. He brought his tail up to tickle the back of Angel’s neck, smiled when Angel laughed into his mouth. It was playful, it was _good_.

But then Angel abruptly pulled back, thrusting Kurt out his arms, his wings flapping with agitation.

“I can’t,” he said. “I _can’t_.”

“Why?” Kurt asked. “Does _he_ care what you do?”

Angel didn’t answer immediately. He had stumbled backwards and he was shaking his head almost wildly. Kurt took a step towards him and Angel moaned.

“I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t, it’s not right, it’s not fair, oh God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry about it all, I just needed, I just ... I’m sorry! I’m sorry I keep doing this to you!”

“I don’t – ” Kurt began, then stopped as suddenly, the memories seemed to solidify in his mind.

This was not the first time that he had been given his mind back. Not the first time Apocalypse had ordered him to keep Angel company. There had been others, many others. That was why Angel knew things he would say before he said them, why Angel understood how to touch Kurt. Because it was not the first time.

Angel was alone and Kurt was the only friend that he could find in the world. But their friendship was always reset.

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, to tell Angel that it was all right, that it was fine and that Kurt understood, that Kurt forgave him – and then froze as he felt soft caress of power in his mind.

“No,” he said. “No, please, please, I don’t want to go back, please don’t make me go back, please, _please_ , I don’t want – ”

He was speaking and couldn’t remember why. He closed his mouth, realising he had no place in this corridor. The Angel was there, meaningless tears running down his face and so he bowed, as he should to the chosen of the God-King before taking himself back to his cell and sitting, waiting for the time when he would next be called to serve his master.


End file.
